


Rain

by entanglednow



Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-09
Updated: 2007-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow





	Rain

It's raining so hard that every word is an invitation to drowning. Warm, heavy rain that's everywhere at once and louder than all the prehistoric bellowing a whole herd of dinosaurs could produce.

Stephen can no longer see straight, and the mud is already ankle deep and getting worse, when Nick calls a halt. Abby and Connor both look like two narrow water rats. Connor is mumbling mournfully about how it's turned into 'The Day After Tomorrow,' every word spoken through a river of water across his mouth; but spoken nonetheless. Abby's pale hair makes her look ghostly and transparent, though the pointed, unhappy set of her mouth goes a long way towards convincing bystanders that she's very much alive.

Eventually, inevitably, Nick lets them go, releases them from service with grudging admittance that the battle has already been lost. They drift off into the distance, blurred shapes with waving arms, almost an optical illusion through the downpour, rounding the hill and making their way down to where the cars are parked.

Stephen stays because he doesn't belong anywhere else, has no wish to be anywhere else; even with the threat of drowning and rural floods.

Nick is still grumbling something about meteorological surveys, one knee balanced on a flat rock while he leans over what's left of one of the giant footprints. Water runs in a line down the back of his neck from the flat weight of his hair.

He looks shiny and not entirely real and when he stands Stephen can't help himself.

The rain has drenched them both and it’s easy for Stephen to push his fingers up into Nick's soaking wet hair, to catch his mouth half-way through a sentence. His lips are slippery wet and easy to push open, easier when Nick's hand grasps his wet coat and pulls him closer.

Stephen pushes until they're out of the roar of the rain, until they're under the weight of leaves and branches that turn the downpour into noise and scent and cold rolling air.

Stephen pushes until Nick thumps against bark, keeps pushing until his hands are in Nick's hair again. It's strangely long, wet and curling round his fingers, clinging in a way that's oddly erotic and Stephen wants more than this. Wants to push in this warm, wet moment where the rain is still thunder through the leaves, winding through every gap in curling silver streams.

Stephen digs his fingers under the soaking hem of Nick's t-shirt and pushes wet fabric up his back. The skin underneath is cold, smooth under his hands and it's perfect to dig his fingers into. Nick lets him, and his own hand is sliding over the bare skin of Stephen's waist, where the dripping side of his shirt has come untucked.

"This is completely inappropriate," Nick murmurs against the edge of his mouth, and it makes Stephen smile and kiss him harder. The bark is scraping his knuckles where his fingers are pushing Nick's shirt up, high enough for him to lay his hands against the middle of his spine. He tilts his head and water runs against their mouths out of Nick's hair. Everywhere they press together is warm under the chill of his clothes.

Stephen pulls away long enough to breathe and Nick is wearing his beautifully startled but thoroughly distracted expression, and Stephen knows it would be easy to just push in and tempt him into anything, absolutely anything, and the thought is enough to make him groan against the edge of his mouth.

"This is reckless and foolhardy," Nick says and his voice is so deep it's broken. "If they come back -."

"They won't come back," Stephen whispers against his mouth. "The sky is falling they won't come back."

"This is still insane."

"Then stop me." Stephen runs fingers through his wet hair. "Stop me before I end up on my knees."

"Oh god." Nick's hand tangles in his own hair and it's much less polite about holding and pulling and stealing kisses with just a twist and a tug, and Stephen lets him, just lets him. Until the rain and the intensity leaves no room for breathing and they have to pull apart, and Stephen is smiling through wet teeth, while Nick shakes his head and groans and he's clearly either fighting to stop this or acquiesce to it.

"Not here," Nick says thickly, but it's more of a question than a protest.

"Here," Stephen says simply, sliding his hands round the waistband of Nick's jeans. "Definitely here." He moves down Nick's chest, knees hitting the wet ground and Nick makes a sound like he's forgotten how to breathe. His hand slides over Stephen's cheek, pulls until the side of his face is laid against the wet material of his jeans and he's murmuring in a voice that's too thick and too soft for Stephen to hear.

***  


Nick watches Stephen's hands curl into his jeans, the tips of his fingers cold against Nick's stomach which is still dry and just warm enough. He inhales and it gives Stephen enough of a gap to tug the zipper down, pull on thick soaking denim until it's open. Everything becomes sensation then, nails and slippery rain wet skin.

Stephen is just as wet inside, but warmer than the rain, and his mouth slides down Nick's cock with no hesitation, no questioning, tentative touches, just one long push that he didn't prepare for at all, didn't expect, and it pulls a gasp from him

His hands are tangling in Stephen's wet hair, tight enough that he knows it has to hurt, but he cannot fucking breathe and he's shaking rain drenched hair out of his eyes so he can look down, so he can watch Stephen's hollowed cheeks catch and release him, eyes half shut. The rain is trailing past the curve of his nose to run down against the edge of his mouth in a way that makes Nick groan, makes him untangle one of his hands and follow the rain's path with his thumb.

"Stephen." There's a catch in the glide, a ragged breath that becomes a groan.

His hands are dug in the wet waistband of his jeans, holding Nick close as much as holding Stephen up, and he's loathe to pull, loathe to make it less of a choice but Stephen's nails are dug tightly into his skin, pulling, building the rhythm he wants on his own, and it's rough and so fucking good that Nick is only barely resisting the request, only barely.

His hand moves, pushes rain-soaked hair out of Stephen's eyes, and his skin is pale and wet and beautiful.

He holds the hair he's disarranged, lets it slip through his fingers on every long drag of Stephen's mouth and Nick's hips are sliding to meet it now, pushing against his better judgment. But he's rewarded for it with a pull that has him ringing water out of Stephen's hair, murmuring his name again until the sharply drawn breaths through Stephen's nose are desperate and Nick is a breath away from falling over the edge, from just breaking.

When Stephen groans around him he does exactly that, gasping, head tipped back far enough that he's afraid he will drown and Stephen's hands slide up under his shirt when his mouth slides all the way down him. He can't hear over the rain but he knows he's swearing around the fall of water. Hair crushed against the tree, groaning and shaking until his face in soaked and he has to turn his head to breathe.

His hands fall out of Stephen's hair, lay it back down against his head in untidy wet lines and he's released between one breath and the next.

Stephen slides back up his body, kisses him, wet hair trailing Nick's face and taste of himself on his lips and he holds Nick against the tree with strong hands, fixes his clothes with long wet fingers.

"I'm coming home with you," Stephen says softly, against the edge of his mouth, and Nick doesn't argue.


End file.
